


Rain in Houston

by DT_Marley



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Inspired by Music, One Shot, Physical Abuse, Pre-Sburb, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DT_Marley/pseuds/DT_Marley
Summary: A short one shot about Dave. no plot really, just a daily life kinda exploration. written around music and sounds and inspired by a LoFi playlist I was listening to. Looks at Bro and Dave's interactions. There is some fighting in it but not anything hugely graphic or violent.





	Rain in Houston

_ Tack. Tack. Tack.  _

 

Dave’s finger bounced off the surface of the piece of plywood he told people was a desk. The rhythmic thumping matching the sound of the bass echoing between his ear drums. There wasn’t much to it, just the steady pulsing, every once in a while a the melodic trill of a keyboard cut through the steady pounding, enough to give some sort of meaning to that thump. 

He opened his eyes and watched the rain slam into the pane of glass that was letting just enough daylight into the room so he didn’t have to turn on the overhead. The light didn’t often look so blue and chilly so he wanted to enjoy it while he could. He’d even removed his shades and folded them neatly on the “desk” next to his computer. Rain was was practically a luxury in Texas. If you couldn’t afford the plane ticket to somewhere where it did rain you just took it when it came and you held onto it.

Something slammed farther in the apartment. The sound was so loud it cut through the chill vibe Dave had been trying cultivate in his small square of living space. Good enough headphones cut out the downstairs neighbors screaming at each other. Enough sound cancellation took out the echoes of traffic 30 stories down. But somehow there was never enough bass to help him escape what he really wanted to.

He paused before reaching for the shades. The blurry filtered rain-light glinting off the mirrored surface as he slid them back on. Getting caught with them off was never a good idea. He hated the fact that anyone could look at him and just read him like a book. That shit wasn’t fair. To even the playing field he just kept them on, though anyone who knew him would probably just figure it was because they looked “cool” and if it wasn’t that they’d say it was because he was just mimicking a role model. There might be some credence to that.

The rain picked up as he looked out the window, distracted by the sudden flight of a few crows. They also seemed to really dig this weather. He didn’t mind, it just seemed to fit. Water shot off their wings as they floated off to lurk around another apartment building or bridge or parking lot. Whatever the hell birds did when it rained. Birds were chill. They always seemed to just do their own thing and not care. Damn, that must be what freedom felt like. Not that he wasn’t allowed to do what he wanted but somehow it just felt so heavy. It was hard to explain and he decided not to dwell on it too much. The rain was too perfect to be distracted by that shit and he was enjoying it too much--

Cigarettes. Mood gone. They stank like a sewer. The thick smoke would fill the apartment for days and cover his clothes and hair like oil. They had long since removed the smoke detector from the unit, in fact it was probably the first thing to go if he had to guess. If there was something his bro couldn’t live without it was cigarettes. It was actually a lot of things, but none of them were really as foul as the cigarettes. 

“Son of a--” Dave slid the headphones off. His zen garden of sound ruined, the rain no longer offering the solace he wanted, and the birds were long gone by now. He put the headphones down on the plywood surface, carefully of course, and stood up. He tiptoed over to the door and listened against it for anything that sounded like movement. There was a rustle of feet against carpet, the fridge closing, the sofa cushions slowly being deflated by something that clearly weighed more than he did. Ok, he sounded calm. A good sign.

Dave stepped back from the door and glanced around his room. He’d be here for a while. There was always homework… working on some photos.... He could try to draw… mix some beats… write some raps… the options were endless really. A good bet was always working on some music, but of course he just had been. That mood had long since passed. And with the smoke smell oozing it’s way through the crack in his door any concentration was long gone.

He slid back to his computer and opened up a chat log. No one was online, as per usual. His friends had lives, things to do, people to see, lame stuff, kid stuff. He sighed and made a face, opening up a chat window:

 

**TG: Hey.**

**TG: You’re probably busy…**

**TG: Busy doing some weird wizard LARPing or summoning Cthulhu or some shit.**

**TG: Guess that’s pretty rad and all that.**

**TG: You’ll never guess what’s happening right now.**

**TG: DUDE IT’S RAINING. THE FLOOD THAT KILLED THE DINOSAURS IS HAPPENING. RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.**

**TG: Haha, probably rains for you all the time… but like, this is a big deal here. Bringing in all those good vibes, for a little while anyways.**

**TG: It’s like the entire world is taking a damn shower. Standing under those little droplets, butt naked and ready to be CLEANSED.**

**TG: I wish it rained more. Like really down-poured. Everything gets all nice and quiet.**

**TG: Hey… I had another weird AF dream last night, not related to the rain. I think you were right about the whole “puppet” thing. That’s some messed up shit.**

**TG: There is only one cool puppet in this house and it’s name is Cal. The dude is dope. The rest of them only wish they could be as cool as that guy.**

**TG: He might even be cooler than me, though I doubt it. That is a very high bar to reach.**

**TG: Anyways… You probably need to get back to that wizard fanfic or something. Talk to you later.**

 

Dave closed the chat window and leaned back. He hadn’t put his headphones back on and the sound of the rain hitting the glass was starting to eat at him. It was too loud. Too constant. Too unrelenting. Damn it if he couldn’t enjoy it without the thundering and hammering of water droplets throwing themselves dramatically onto any and all surfaces. Or he was just ansty. It had no rhythm. Rain was chaos. Hammering, splintering, splattering, wet chaos. 

As he looked out the window now he frowned. As much as anyone who barely made facial expressions would frown, which wasn’t much more than a slight turn down at the corner of his mouth. No. As much as Roy Orbison insisted he should, he elected to NOT listen to the nonexistent rhythm that was the cacophony of pouring rain. His chest was already tying itself into knots as he reached for his headphones

He stifled a cough as he breathed in a mouthful of the stench of cheap tobacco. He knew better than to be heard. He knew better than to make any complaint about the smoke. The smell of it alone was enough to make him climb the fire escape out his window and go to the roof. If it wasn’t raining then he would have. 

There was a “Ping” from his computer that made him pause. A response? Odd. but he looked at it anyways, a very small smile appearing when it was a better ping than he’d expected. And for the moment he was distracted from the smoke as he clicked open the window to green text:

 

**GG: DAVE. EARTH TO COOL KID. YOU THERE?**

**TG: Sup? I’m here.**

**GG: :) hi.**

**TG: you really want my attention that bad you can just say “hello ;)”**

**GG:.......... no. Anyways. I wanted to tell you! I found this really cool dead thing and I wanted to send it to you!**

**TG: Oh? What is it?**

**GG: :) mmm a bit of a surprise… I’d rather you find out when you get it!**

**TG: fine then, be all sneaky and spooky. Bad enough you won’t even tell me where you live.**

**GG: well it’s not important and i’m not sure I know how to describe it exactly…**

**TG: Riddle me this, Ms. Mysterious: Does it rain?**

**GG:...yeah. A lot actually**

**TG: Well it’s probably nothing compared to the absolute sky-sobbing tear fest that’s going on here. When I say this is Ark building weather? You’d better get a damn hammer and nails.**

**GG: Oh! It’s raining for you? Don’t you live in the desert kinda? I can see how that must be pretty exciting!**

**TG: Exciting isn’t the word for it… earth-shattering… ground-soaking… REVOLUTIONARY.**

**GG: Haha yeah. All your plants must be happy then :)**

**TG: They’re drinking it up like the thirstiest sons of bitches to exist. You haven’t seen plants drink it up so fast.**

**GG: you always have a way of making things sound… mmm… how should I put it…**

**TG: Dope?**

**GG: Not exactly the word I was going for…**

**TG: Hella rad?**

**GG: No….**

**TG: Lit?**

**GG: more like… These plants are trying to…**

**TG: like they’re trying to get it up for the ra--**

 

There was a loud bang against Dave’s door that made him practically fold in on himself. He slammed the computer shut on impulse and whipped around to see half a blade stuck through the door. Shit. His stomach sank into the floor and he clenched his jaw. Now? In the rain? 

He sighed and stood up sliding his sneakers on and moving toward the door cautiously. Maybe he didn’t intend to go up to the roof… maybe he was… He opened the door a small crack and peeked out from behind his shades. 

The smell of smoke hit him like a wall but he held in a cough. There was a haze around the whole apartment all three rooms of it that weren’t his room anyways. After he glanced at the empty hall he addressed his door and the katana that was now stabbed through it. A piece of paper was stuck to the wood by the blade and it simply read : Roof. Now. So he was serious. Dammit. His friend would have to wait.

Dave stepped into the hall and gave the handle of the katana a solid yank to loosen it from his door. Odds were if he went up there unarmed there would be no mercy. What kind of pretentious ass hat went into Strife without a weapon? It was completely illogical and as many of those “cool guy” stereotypes involved stepping epically into conflict with nothing but witty retorts and sharp intellect, in this case that just wasn't going to cut it. The katana slid loose, letting the paper slide to the ground and settle outside his door as he turned and made his way to the front door. 

They were lucky to be the only occupied unit on the top floor. That meant no neighbors asking questions, full access to the roof, and no one above them to complain about noise. Really there wasn’t a more perfect apartment they could have lived in. Of course, none of these things were going through Dave’s head as he made his way up the stairs hand tightening on the hilt of the katana with every step and trying to focus as much as he could on the goal: go in, go fast, get out. Simple and easy.

The moment he stepped out onto the soaked metal roof he knew it would not be simple and easy. First off the torrential rainfall made the space into a miniature lake, soaking into his sneakers immediately. The fat ass raindrops soaked him in the few seconds he took to scan the roof for signs of movement. Anyone watching might wonder why he’d be wearing sunglasses in a downpour. Then again, no one was ever watching. No one except…

Motion blur. Dave couldn’t even see shapes or details as the figure sped past him from behind. He just barely managed to get his katana up to block in time to not be impaled. Then… nothing. He was alone again. So that’s how he was going to play it. Honestly the guy was the only person he knew who could weaponize something like the damn rain. 

Dave fell into a crouch and  slid into the middle of the roof, turning around to look for that blurry attacker. All he DID see was a smug puppet sitting on a pile of bricks. 

“What are you laughing at, man?”

No response. Just that haunting smile with those piercing blue eyes.

“I know he’s close if you’re here.”

Again, nothing, but this time the light glinted off the glass eyes.

“Close? Sure.”

The cold voice behind him caught him off guard enough. The cold metal at his throat didn’t help.

“Sloppy.”

The blade scraped along his skin, drawing a thin line of red across his neck. Nowhere lethal of course, that would be murder. All it was was a lesson. Dave’s face stayed emotionless as he inwardly cussed himself out for being so stupid. Of course it was sloppy. He bit the inside of his mouth as he felt the red drip down his neck.

“Yeah. it was. I’ll do better next--”

The figure vanished, this time the puppet went with him. His first move always came fast. Dave had never once been able to block the first attack. He never learned. He had plenty of “lessons” to show for it. He shook his head, rain droplets flinging everywhere as he grit his teeth and put his back to the edge of the roof and back up slow. Don’t let him behind you. What’s so difficult about that!?

A splash to his right caught him by surprise and he turned just in time to see the figure tearing at him sword raised. This time he was ready. He blocked. The other’s blade glanced off his own and he was able to step out of reach as his bro swiped at him, trying to grab his arm.

Dave ducked. He felt his knees splash down in the rainwater as he slashed across his bro’s legs trying to sweep them out. All he got was fabric, tearing the pants open at the knees. Then he scrambled to get up and out of the way just barely ducking out of the grip reaching out to grab his hair. Shit. he was serious today. But honestly, the cigarette should have tipped him off. 

He whipped around and faced the tall emotionless figure with pointed shades. Bro looked pissed. Had he messed up something? Sloppy didn’t usually mean Bro go THAT mad, and usually not so fast… he barely had time to think before he had to throw himself backwards as another attack came fast. A slash across his chest. 

There was the awful sound of fabric tearing then the explosive stinging pain of a blade ripping open his skin. He fell backwards with a yelp. He wanted to scream. Screaming wasn’t cool. Don’t do that. Don’t give him any more reason to be pissed.... Luckily it wasn’t a deep cut. Oh no, he wanted to drag this out. Dave grit his teeth and forced himself up even though he could barely hold himself up straight.

“Not doing well today, little man.”

Oh no…the voice sounded icier and even more un-amused than usual.

“Get your head on straight and focus, dumb shit.”

Bro had a point there. Dave could barely keep his eyes uncrossed from the stinging pain now radiating from his front.

“Trying… i’ll do better…”

He tightened his grip on the sword and looked up at Bro again. This time he attacked first, faking left and going right, aiming to hit Bro’s dominant sword arm. 

“Tch. not good enough.” Bro saw it coming. A 12 year old hardly has subtle movements. He grabbed Dave’s arm and twisted it backwards, stopping the attack short and making Dave’s sword fall to the ground. 

Dave hissed in pain as he felt himself get yanked backwards, falling against Bro who quickly put him in a headlock. Shit. The next thing he knew he was seeing stars as pain exploded in his side. He swore he heard a crunch but he wasn’t sure. All he did know for certain was: pain. Shit. ow. Then his face met the concrete roof 2 inches deep in water.

“When are you going to learn? It’s not THAT hard, you little shit.” 

There was a kick to his other side that sent him rolling a few feet before he curled in on himself, still trying to stand. He’d gotten better… he’d learned… hadn’t he? The bruises forming on his ribs told him otherwise. Get up. GET UP DAVE.

“GET. UP.” 

The figure approached where he was trying to stand up echoing his own thoughts. Or maybe his thoughts were just trying to echo the voice. It was hard to tell.

“Didn’t raise a damn quitter.”

No he didn’t. “N-not a quitter. I-...” He did get up. He had to. He looked up into the pointed shades, shaking and soaked, but certainly not quitting. Not yet. 

“Then prove it.” 

This time is was a slap to the side of the head. Not to knock him over, not to necessarily hurt him. A reminder. A reminder that this was in fact training for him to get stronger. To be a fighter. To eliminate weakness.

He nodded at Bro, wincing as he tried to stand tall in the ongoing downpour. His hands clenched into fists and he glanced over to his sword about 10 feet away. That was a mistake, you don’t lose your weapon. Fix that. He made a run for it which bro allowed him to take. He snatched up the blade and whirled around to face the taller and uninjured Bro on the other side of the roof.

This went on for a few minutes: the sparring. Attacking and falling back or falling down. Sometimes Cal jumped in as a distraction. He landed one attack on Bro. a small cut on his arm, but it was the best he’d landed in a while and damn did he pay for it. At the end of the 5 minutes of constant attacking he was sprawled across the roof, the rainwater around him turning red. When he coughed there was a spray of blood from a split lip and his latest collection of “lessons” all over his arms and back and a few on his legs. 

When he stayed down, panting and fighting to just breathe he thought he was going to die. Every time the strife escalated. Every time it got worse. Every time his ass was handed to him he thought it was the end. 

The sneakers and spats approached him from across the roof, taking a knee next to his collapsed figure and a hand reached down grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up into the pointed shades. His own aviators had fallen off mid-fight leaving his large red eyes exposed and him feeling even more vulnerable than anyone should ever feel. 

“Still not good enough.” Then there was a long pause as the unreadable face looked down at him. He smelled like soaked cigarettes. The stale smoke was a part of him. He shook his head and stood up, pulling dave up with him by the neck.

“AUGK!” The nose escaped him in surprise as he was yanked up and dropped on his feet, almost collapsing again but managing to stay upright. He had to do better… had to be better.. 

“Get your ass inside and clean up.” Bro motioned toward the stairs that led back down to their apartment.

Dave nodded and stumbled towards them. Right before he went down he paused, hearing the familiar sound of flapping and he glanced over in time to see the crows come back and land on the roof. He watched them and for a second forgot where he was, he wondered again what birds did when it rained and if they even cared. 

SLAM. His breath was gone, the floor was also somehow gone and gravity had abandoned him. Then it came back all to fast as he rolled and slid down the stairs. When he hit the bottom he blinked in a daze before holy shit all the pain came flooding back and this time he did yell, “Bro! The hell was that for!!??!”

Bro looked down, half smirking. “Warned you about the stairs, little man.”

“Ugh… suck a dick, asshole!!” He couldn’t stand up now, considering that he’d needed help before he’d just gotten thrown down the stairs. But he didn’t want help from his bro. 

Almost too quickly Bro materialized next to him and pulled him up by the back of his shirt and practically dragged him back inside and into their small home. “Go change. You’ll get sick if you sit around in wet clothes like a dumbass.”

The stench of the thick smoke hitting his throat again made Dave gag as he stumbled towards his room. “Whatever.” 

Bro scowled and immediately appeared in front of Dave before he could get back into his room. “Hey. you do what I say, punk. Change your clothes. You’re not sick. You think we have the funds for you to just get sick any time you want?” This time it wasn’t a slap to the side of the head so much as a punch.

Dave’s head hit the wall and his ears started ringing as he slumped against it sideways. He nodded yes, then no, a bit unclear what the question even was anymore. “Sorry…” There was another hit and this time his vision blacked out for a few seconds as he slid to the ground.

“Don’t apologize. That’s weak. You do dumb shit you own up to it.” Then he moved away, going back toward the living room and the sofa leaving Dave to crawl back into his room.

By the time he’d managed to peel off his soaked clothes, slap some bandaids on what he could, and grit his teeth through the rest of his injuries, the rain had stopped. It was still overcast and cloudy but now he sat at his plywood “desk” and watched the sun try to break through the clouds as it tried to set. 

He picked up his headphones and slid them on to cover up the sounds of Bro moving through the apartment. The bass picked up and even though now the pulsing beat made his head spike with pain every time it hit, it was a welcome distraction from the abrasions and bruises he was covered with. His red eyes glistened slightly as he stared at the blank nothingness of the cloudy sky, crows flying across his view. The melody of the music keeping him steady as his hands threatened to start shaking uncontrollably. 

He could feel the fight still, every word Bro spoke, every hit. His soaked hair stained red in places still. He told himself it was the leftover rain. He was very good at convincing himself it was anything other than what it was. As the music picked up the warm clear liquid slid down his face.

 

_ Drip. Drip. Drip. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this really quick project! It was kind of thing written to get my writing gears turning again but it was a lot of fun to write as well! anyways, thanks for reading!! =)


End file.
